Expecting the Unexpected
by Adastra
Summary: Explores what might have happened in the episode 'Unexpected' if the crew had not been able to find the Xyrillians again. (2001 ASC Awards - 2nd Place - Best Enterprise General Story)


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Dedicated to Djinn, an exceptional beta reader. Without Djinn's help and enthusiasm for this story, I doubt I would have finished it.   
  
Premise: Alternate universe story based on the episode "Unexpected". Explores what might have happened if the crew had not been able to find the Xyrillians again.  
  
=-=-=  
  
Expecting the Unexpected  
by A.  
  
=-=-=  
  
Commander Trip Tucker stepped out of the shower and stared at his body in his mirror, his eyes fixing on the lump on the left side of his torso that represented the alien life growing inside of him. Red rivulets of stretching skin already extended across the area creating a hot, tender pain. Phlox had hesitated to provide any oral or injected pain relievers, uncertain of their potential effects on Xyrillians, but he had provided a topical salve, which Tucker slathered on liberally to little effect.  
  
"Pregnant," he whispered, shaking his head at himself. "What are you going to do now?" he asked his reflection and then, answering for it, he said, "I don't know. God, I really don't know."  
  
It had only been a day since he had sat in conference with T'Pol and Archer as T'Pol had gone over the details of their search to locate the Xyrillians. Starting to daydream, Tucker's eyes had wandered to the windows and the infinite star speckled universe outside of the ship, but his attention had snapped back to T'Pol with the final words of the debriefing.  
  
"In conclusion, we have searched their likely courses and followed up on every lead. I am sorry, Commander, but we are not able to locate the Xyrillians."  
  
"But we will keep on trying," Tucker had said expectantly.  
  
Archer and T'Pol had exchanged a glance, which had not been lost on Tucker. His eyes had widened and he had asked, with a hint of desperation in his words, "We'll keep on trying, right?"  
  
With sympathy and certainty, Archer had met Tucker's gaze and replied, "I'm sorry, Trip, but the Xyrillians are long gone."  
  
To this Tucker had said, "No." And then standing up, he had pointed at T'Pol and insisted, "You go back and look over the data. You find them."  
  
Without blinking, T'Pol had coolly responded, "We cannot find them, Commander, and to continue looking would be a waste of our time and resources."  
  
"It sure as hell isn't a waste of time to me!"  
  
"You are being illogical."  
  
"You bet I am!" He had turned his attention to Archer. "Captain, we can't just give up."  
  
Standing, Archer had said, "We've done what we can. I agree with T'Pol on this, it is time for us to move on."  
  
"And just what am I supposed to do? Start crocheting bibs and bonnets?"  
  
"That," T'Pol had interjected, "might not be such a bad idea considering that you must now take responsibility for your situation."  
  
Tucker's cheeks had flushed in anger, "You think this is funny don't you? You snide Vulcan bit--"  
  
"Trip!" Archer had said sharply.  
  
"I assure you," T'Pol had responded, "no one is laughing."  
  
"I'll find them myself if that's what I have to do!" Tucker had retorted. "This is my life we're talking about and maybe neither of you care about that, but it sure does mean a lot to me!"  
  
"You know that we care, Trip," Archer had said. "Calm down. I want you to report to sickbay, that's an order."  
  
"No!" Tucker had yelled and crowded in on Archer, defiant and aggressive. "You going to lock me up in the brig? Call on Reed to drag me off? Hell, maybe he could use some target practice and I can be the bull's eye!"  
  
Then T'Pol had come up behind him placing a hand between his neck and shoulder, and before he could spin around and demand she take her hands off of him, he had felt suddenly cold all over and his body had seemed impossibly heavy, dragging him down into a pool of darkness.  
  
=-=-=  
  
Tucker had awakened in sickbay with Dr. Phlox and Captain Archer hovering over him. He had sat up, blinking groggily, and had asked, "What happened?"  
  
"T'Pol happened," Archer had replied. "She knocked you out; you were becoming somewhat... hostile." Archer had paused and then grinned as he added, "I don't think the fact that you disobeyed a direct order helped much."  
  
"How long...?"  
  
"Nine hours," Phlox had replied. "You were sleep deprived and emotionally overloaded. I thought it best for you to catch up on your sleep."  
  
Becoming fully conscious, Tucker had looked at Archer and said, "I'm sorry, Captain, about earlier. I don't quite know what got into me."  
  
"I can answer that," Phlox had said. "What 'got into you' was a release of Xyrillian hormones. I have studied some samples of your blood and so far I can tell you that the hormones are somewhat like human estrogen, but not exactly. I am afraid certain physiological reactions are inevitable. Hence the growth of nipples on your wrist, which may or may not be functional. In addition there have been some alterations in your brain chemistry."  
  
"Alterations in my brain chemistry?" Tucker had asked, alarmed.  
  
"Oh, don't be too worried, Commander," Phlox had assured, "it will probably only result in rather extreme mood swings."  
  
"Probably only result?" Tucker had muttered. "That's not exactly a comforting thought." He had then glanced at Archer and asked, "But what happens now? If you're going to give up on finding the Xyrillians," he had not been able to help the slight accusatory inflection in his voice, "then what happens to me?"  
  
"Dr. Phlox will monitor you and work to figure out the best way to handle the pregnancy," Archer had replied gently, but matter-of-factly.  
  
"Oh no," Tucker had said with a hint of fear in his voice. He turned his attention to the doctor. "Can't you just get this thing out of me? I am not going to play host to some alien parasite."  
  
Calmly, Phlox had replied, "The fetus has several tendrils, which you can perhaps equate with a human umbilical cord. These tendrils keep the fetus alive. As I explained before, it has integrated with your pericardium. The fetus is using your own heartbeat to maintain its circulation. What is more, it is starting to integrate with other vital organs such as your lungs and intestines, which I surmise will grant it oxygen and nutrition. I can make an educated conjecture that once the fetus is to term, it will separate from your organs, but I do not know whether or not that separation will cause you permanent damage or even death. And even if I remove it now and force that separation, you could suffer permanent damage to your heart or death. But though it is dangerous, if you wish to abort the pregnancy, now is the best time, before it can integrate with your other organs."  
  
"No guarantees then, either way?" Tucker had asked.  
  
Phlox had shaken his head. "I am afraid not, Commander, but just because something can happen doesn't mean that it will. I have extensive surgical experience. What I can guarantee is that you will receive the best care that I can provide."  
  
"All things being equal, I guess if we're going to do it," Tucker paused and shifted nervously, "then we should do it now."  
  
"There is more that you should consider," Phlox had said seriously. "With the Xyrillians being new to humans and to myself, I do not know how to create a stable life support system for a Xyrillian fetus outside of your body. I would try to save it even if I removed it early for it is also entitled to my best care though I am quite certain that it would die."  
  
Tucker had rubbed his hands over his face and through his hair. He had made a noise of frustration and had exclaimed, "I don't know what to do!"  
  
"I know this is difficult," Phlox had said, "but you need to make your decision within the next couple of days because after that it will integrate with your other organs." He had paused and then added, "This is taking a great deal out of you both physically and emotionally, I recommend you suspend your activities as chief engineer as the work is an added stress."  
  
"Is that an order?" Tucker had asked, growing weary.  
  
"No," Phlox had answered. "For now, it is what I said it is: a recommendation."  
  
Tucker had shaken his head and turned away from them, saying softly, "I need time to think."  
  
"Of course," Phlox had said.  
  
"Trip, we can set a course for Earth," Archer had offered, "and get you to the best medical access."  
  
"No, please no. The last thing I want is to have us headed back home on my account," Trip had said with quiet desperation and had turned his eyes to Phlox. "Do you think that you will be able to help me, Doctor?"  
  
"Again, I cannot guarantee anything, Commander," he had glanced from Tucker to Archer. "As I have said, given the growth rate of the fetus, I estimate that it will come to term in five to six weeks. Would we even be able to reach Starfleet Medical Headquarters in that frame of time?"  
  
Archer had had shaken his head and replied, "No, I don't think so."  
  
"We could get there in exactly six if we left right now," Tucker had added quietly, "and that's only if we experienced no problems; that's a pretty big if."  
  
"We exchanged some data with the Xyrillians and I have been reading through their physiological information," Phlox had said. "I will be putting together a report and you will be debriefed as soon as possible." Finally, he had added, "Whatever is in my power to do to help you, I will do, Commander. You can be certain of that."  
  
Tucker had nodded and Archer had started to ask him a question, but Tucker had just held up a hand and had said, "I just want to go to my quarters, Captain. I need time to think."  
  
"Okay," Archer had said and Tucker had risen to his feet and exited sickbay without another word or glance at the others.  
  
=-=-=  
  
And now Tucker stood staring at his body in front of the mirror trying to understand the magnitude of what was happening to him. It would be easier for him to wrap his mind around the concept of being pregnant if the fetus shared some of his genetics, was a part of him, but he felt more like a vessel, an unwitting and unwilling partner in this act of interspecies procreation. He took a deep breath and continued to consider himself in the mirror.  
  
Bringing a hand up to his chest, he fluttered his fingers across the protruding shape, whispering to it a piece of a poem he had once heard his own mother recite when she had been pregnant with his younger sister, "Where did you come from, baby dear?" He glanced out the window to the infinite realm of darkness and light of the universe. "Out of the everywhere and into the here."  
  
Tucker heard a chime signaling to him that someone was at the door to his cabin. Without looking away from the mirror, he reached out, pressed a button to reply, and said, "Go away."  
  
"Trip, it's me." Captain Archer's voice carried over the intercom.  
  
"All right then... go away, sir."  
  
"I can talk to you from out here or from in there. Out here anyone who happens by can listen to what I have to say, but maybe you would prefer a little more privacy."  
  
Sighing, Tucker grumbled, "Come on in then."  
  
The door opened and Jonathan Archer stepped into the room. His eyebrows shot up in surprise when he saw Tucker standing naked in front of the mirror. "Trip, you all right?"  
  
Tucker laughed without humor, his voice catching in his throat. "Yeah, fine, never better. There is that little thing about me getting pregnant, but other than that, just fan-damn-tastic." He looked pathetically at Archer. "Look at me, will you? What do you see?"  
  
"I see a colleague, a friend, a man. I see Trip Tucker."  
  
"A man? This kind of makes me doubt the most basic category of human being: male or female. I'm not supposed to be able to get pregnant. My body is not designed for this. Just how is this thing going to come out?"  
  
"Phlox is working on that," Archer answered. "You have time."  
  
"And what will I do with my time, Captain? If I return to duty, I suppose my behavior will alert the crew to something. And I suppose if I don't return to duty then that will also alert the crew to something. Damned if I do, damned if I don't, that seems to be the running theme for my life at the moment." Tucker grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist and then sat down on his bed. He rubbed his hands over his face and asked, "Do you think that the crew know already?"  
  
"I think that they may know something happened to you onboard the Xyrillian vessel." Archer paused, looking at the swell on Tucker's torso. "They are going to figure something out when you can't hide that."  
  
Tucker frowned. "I didn't ask for this you know. I didn't know what was happening. Ah'Len told me that we were playing a game. I didn't know when I stuck my fingers in that box of cosmic kitty litter that I was engaging in some kind of sexual activity with her."  
  
"I believe you," Archer said sincerely. He pulled out the chair at Tucker's desk and sat down to face his friend. "You have a hard decision to make."  
  
"Do I carry it to term or do I have the doctor remove it?" Tucker looked away from Archer. "Either way, I could die and it could die." He looked back at Archer and asked softly, "What would you do?"  
  
Archer shook his head. "I don't know, Trip, and I can't make that choice for you, you have to make it yourself."  
  
"I know, but what kind of choice is it?" he asked, agitated. "Isn't all life precious? That's what I've always believed."  
  
"All life is precious," Archer affirmed. "Don't forget that includes your own."   
  
"So what do I do?" Tucker asked, not so much to Archer, but to himself. "It didn't know this was going to happen," Tucker said and looked down to the swelling in his chest. He put a hand on it and whispered," I guess we'll just have to be in this thing together, huh?" He was silent for several moments before looking back to Archer and said, his voice wavering slightly, "I'll... I'll tell Phlox. I have to at least give it a chance at life; I can't bring myself to deny it that, but I don't mind telling you that I can't think of a time that I've been more scared than I am right now."  
  
Archer scooted his chair closer to Tucker and said seriously, "As your friend and captain, I am here for you." He reached out to put a hand on Tucker's shoulder, but Tucker leaned away. Sighing, Archer said, "I am sure others would support you too, if you would tell them."  
  
"No." Tucker shook his head. "I don't want to be seen differently or treated differently or be questioned or made fun of."  
  
"You're so sure that would happen?" Archer asked, but Tucker didn't reply. Archer got to his feet. "I know you want as few people to know as possible," he paused, "but we need to tell Reed, he is going to figure out something strange is going on and as head security officer, I believe he has a right to know."  
  
"Do what you have to then, Captain."  
  
"I also need to file a report with Starfleet. They may order us back to Earth."  
  
Tucker's face burned with anger and embarrassment and, gritting his teeth, he said, "Do what you have to."  
  
The ship's public address system came to life and T'Pol's voice carried throughout the ship saying, "Captain Archer, to the bridge."  
  
Archer pressed a button in the computer panel in the wall. "Acknowledged," he replied. Looking back at Tucker, he said sympathetically, "Get some rest, okay?"  
  
Tucker nodded. "Thanks, Cap."  
  
Archer nodded in return and left Tucker's quarters, leaving the engineer to his own thoughts.  
  
=-=-=   
  
Stepping onto the bridge, Captain Archer looked toward the screen, where a dark gray planet comprised much of the view, and then said to T'Pol, "Report, Sub-Commander."  
  
"It appears to be a class CX planet."  
  
"CX?" Archer said. "I can't recall humans having ever laid eyes on one."  
  
"They are very rare," T'Pol said. "This is also the first time that I have seen one. I recommend that we use this opportunity to try to gather data on this type of planet."  
  
"I've read about CX planets in Vulcan science journals and, if I recall correctly," Archer said, "won't the electromagnetic interference in the upper atmosphere play havoc with our sensors?"  
  
"That is correct, Captain, that interference also makes it impossible for a probe to function properly in the upper atmosphere."  
  
"Suggestions?" Archer asked, glancing around at the bridge crew.  
  
T'Pol was the only one to respond. "I propose that we orbit the planet to scan for points in the atmosphere where the electromagnetic activity is weakest."  
  
"How long would that take to complete?"  
  
"To gather detailed information and locate patterns of electromagnetic weakness, we ought to conduct the scanning and analysis for four weeks."  
  
Archer heard a couple of groans from the bridge crew. "Since exploring new worlds is part of our mission, then we had best get started." He glanced at T'Pol and said, "Do it."  
  
=-=-=  
  
Tucker took a deep breath and stepped into the meeting room. Archer, T'Pol, Reed, and Phlox were already inside. Archer nodded in Tucker's direction, acknowledging him. Reed glanced up, surprise playing across his face as he asked, "Forgot to change, did we?"  
  
Tucker glanced down at his civilian garb that hid the swelling on his torso better than his uniform, and he shrugged his shoulders. "Sorry, I thought it was casual day."  
  
T'Pol raised an eyebrow at Tucker, but Reed just shook his head and muttered, "Whatever then," and directed his attention back to the report in front of him.  
  
Tucker took a seat and Archer began to speak. "All right, let's begin this debriefing. First, I will say that Starfleet has approved our staying here to study the CX planet even in light of recent news." He glanced at Tucker whose body relaxed a little.  
  
Reed looked up and asked, "News? What news?"  
  
Archer held up a hand. "We are going to get to that, Lieutenant, but I would like to briefly go over the mission regarding the planet." Reed nodded and Archer continued, "The planet we have come upon is class CX. T'Pol has been researching the best way for us to learn something about this planet, so I turn it over to her."  
  
T'Pol started in on her report, "As is characteristic of CX planets, the upper atmosphere features heavy electromagnetic storms. This has thus far made exploration of CX class planets impossible because sensors are unable to penetrate the upper atmosphere and probes cannot handle the interference, making information attained by them neither valid nor reliable. Therefore I suggest that we explore the possibility of using the transporter device to send a probe to the planet's surface and then to bring it back. If we learn the planet can sustain humanoid life, we may even be able to later send a science team."  
  
"Won't all this interference be a problem for the transporter?" Reed asked.  
  
T'Pol nodded. "Yes, but I believe if we study the storms and look for weak points, we may be able to transport a probe through those points. We can also attach a transport stabilizer, which should strengthen the pattern and increase our chances of successfully retrieving a probe."  
  
Tucker spoke up and offered, "I could begin work on modifying the stabilizers to deal with the interference."  
  
"Good," Archer said. Clearing his throat, he continued, "And now, to our other news." He paused and glanced at Tucker who nodded to him, and Archer shifted his gaze to Reed. "Lieutenant, I think that it is important that you know about this, but you are to keep it confidential."  
  
"Of course, sir," Reed said seriously. "What is it?"  
  
"This stems from... an encounter onboard the Xyrillian vessel that we helped repair. Commander Tucker has," Archer paused, looking somewhat uncomfortable, "he has unintentionally been impregnated by a Xyrillian."  
  
"What?" Reed said, confused. He turned to Tucker and looked him up and down. "What do you mean impregnated?"  
  
Flushing slightly, Tucker replied, "Ah'Len, the Xyrillian engineer who I worked with, asked me to play a game with her..."  
  
"A game?" Reed asked, still puzzled.  
  
"We put our hands in this box of pebbles so we could read each other's minds. I didn't know I was going to get knocked up," Tucker insisted, "she didn't tell me it was sexual."  
  
Reed suppressed a smile. "How could you not know?"  
  
"Not all species reproduce in the same way, Lieutenant." It was T'Pol who spoke, her tone even and stern.  
  
Looking into Tucker's eyes, Reed asked, "You really didn't know?"  
  
Tucker shook his head.  
  
Reed frowned. "That sounds disturbingly like sexual molestation. I knew it was a bad idea not to have security go wi--"  
  
"Sexual molestation?!" Tucker snapped and glared at Reed. "I am not a victim. I don't think she meant me any harm."  
  
"Didn't mean you any harm?" Reed said incredulously. "She impregnated you without your knowledge. I would bloody well call that harm."  
  
"It is possible," T'Pol cut in, "that the Xyrillian did not intend for this to happen. Commander Tucker was able to connect with her telepathically and did not sense any harmful intent."  
  
"Thank you," Tucker said, crossing his arms as he leaned back in his chair.   
  
"It is also possible," T'Pol continued, "that the Xyrillian did intend for this to happen. However, since we cannot find them, we cannot ask her nor find out other important information about their species' reproduction. Dr. Phlox has put together a report of what information we do have." She turned to Phlox. "Go ahead, Doctor."  
  
Phlox smiled at her. "Thank you, Sub-Commander." He turned his attention to include everyone and began. "We exchanged some information with the Xyrillians and from what we have, I can tell you that they do not have female and male in the terms that humans, or Vulcans for that matter, have male and female. It might be more accurate to say that they are reproductive and non-reproductive. A reproductive Xyrillian being what we might equate with female and a non-reproductive Xyrillian being what we might call male. Female, or reproductive, Xyrillians reproduce through parthenogenesis, that is, they produce unfertilized eggs that are capable of developing into another Xyrillian. Since their bodies expend a great deal of energy producing and maintaining eggs, they are not capable of expending the energy to grow a developing fetus inside their body. Male, or non-reproductive Xyrillians, over time lost their ability to fertilize eggs and instead serve as hosts to the females' eggs. I am assuming that the box of pebbles that Commander Tucker put his hands in was actually a chemical catalyst that links a reproductive and non-reproductive Xyrillian, allowing the transfer of energy between them." He paused before continuing, "It is kind of like a biological version of a transporter, a rather amazing example of evolution."  
  
"Can't you remove it?" Reed asked.  
  
"I could try," Phlox said, "and eventually I may have to if the Xyrillian hormones don't stimulate the necessary physiological changes in Commander Tucker to allow a safe birth. I will be researching the best way to handle the situation when the gestation comes to an end as Commander Tucker has opted to allow the fetus to come to term."  
  
"Do you suppose that's a good idea?" Reed asked, frowning. "We don't really know anything about the motives of the Xyrillians."  
  
"It's my decision," Tucker said.  
  
"There's a ship full of people to think about, what if it's dangerous? What will we do with it? I think it ought to be quarantined." Reed paused and eyed Tucker. "In fact, it may be best if you were quarantined."  
  
"At least you don't want to blow it up," Tucker muttered. "And as for that quarantine idea, you can just stick that back into whatever place you pulled it out from."  
  
Reed began to say something in reply, but Archer interrupted, "We're not going to quarantine anyone. As for what happens when the baby is born, Trip is going to have to decide what he wants to do."  
  
Tucker looked away and nodded, his expression uncertain.  
  
"All right, sir," Reed acquiesced, but still looking at Tucker he added, "I still think that it is a bad idea."  
  
"So noted," Archer said. "Dismissed."  
  
=-=-=  
  
"It is illogical to start experimenting with the transporter until the atmospheric survey is complete. It will not be complete for at least another week."  
  
From where he was sitting on the transporter pad, Tucker looked up at T'Pol who stood at the controls. "Don't be a spoil sport," he said. "Haven't you ever done anything just because you were curious?"  
  
"No," T'Pol said.  
  
Tucker sighed. "Let's just do one little test to check things out. Worst case, we don't get the sandwich back," he said and held up a metal plate with a ham and cheese sandwich sitting on it, "and all we've lost is a little of our time and a test subject far less valuable than a probe or a crewmember."  
  
"Are you ready then, Commander?" T'Pol asked.  
  
"Just about," Tucker said. He picked the sandwich up and set it down by his side. Next he affixed a thin, round device on the bottom of the plate. He tapped on it and green lights around the edges lit up. "All right, stabilizer's been activated," he said. Picking up the sandwich once again, he took a big bite of it then put it back on the plate and set the plate on the transporter pad. He got up and went to stand next to T'Pol. "Let's fire this thing up," he said with enthusiasm though his voice was muffled as he ate his bite of ham and cheese sandwich.  
  
T'Pol gave him a critical look. "Vulcans consider it rude to speak and chew at the same time."  
  
Tucker swallowed his bite and said with embarrassment, "Sorry, so do humans. I forgot to eat breakfast this morning, must have forgotten my manners along with it."  
  
"It is unwise for you to skip meals," T'Pol said.  
  
"Might as well if I am just going to throw them up anyway."  
  
T'Pol raised a questioning eyebrow at him.  
  
"Morning sickness," Tucker said. "Doc said to expect it. Even with missed meals this thing has been doing just fine for the past few weeks; it's gotten to be the size of a football! I even put on a larger uniform today since my old one doesn't really hide my, uh, condition anymore."  
  
T'Pol looked Tucker up and down, her eyes resting on the somewhat hidden bulge on the left of Tucker's torso. "This uniform does not hide it well either. You look... lopsided."  
  
"Really? Lopsided?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Well, tonight I'll see if I can alter my uniform to balance things out a bit more." He redirected his attention to the transporter. "Let's just get back to the task at hand."  
  
T'Pol nodded and looked back down at the controls. After adjusting them, she said, "Initiating," and the sandwich and plate dematerialized. Looking at the readouts, she said, "The transporter lock is secure."  
  
"Can we get it back?" Tucker asked eagerly.  
  
"Yes, I believe so." She continued to adjust the controls. "I am attempting to retrieve it now."  
  
In a glimmer of light and sound, the transporter reenergized. Tucker grimaced and crinkled his nose at what rematerialized on the pad. "Ugh, *that* is not ham and cheese."  
  
"Indeed," T'Pol said as Tucker stepped toward the transporter pad.  
  
A mass of white, gray, and pink colored goo sat bubbling on the platform. Eyeing it, Tucker asked, "What the heck happened?"  
  
"Though I could maintain a lock on it," T'Pol said, looking at the readouts on the computer screen in front of her, "the stabilizers did not adequately sustain the pattern of either the inorganic or organic materials." She looked up from the screen to Tucker, who was swaying slightly. "Are you all right, Commander?"  
  
"Nuh uh," he replied faintly. "It's that smell...I think I'm going to be sick."  
  
T'Pol came from around the controls and put a supportive arm around his shoulder and guided him out of the transporter room. Once outside, he shrugged her arm away and leaned against the wall, coughing.  
  
"Shall I summon the doctor?" T'Pol asked.  
  
Tucker stood up straight and waved a dismissive hand. "No, I just need a little fresh air." He smiled weakly at her. "Thanks though." He leaned back against the wall and panted for air.   
  
An ensign came around the corner, and seeing Tucker breathing strangely, halted and asked, "Are you all right sir?"  
  
"I'm fine," he insisted, but then shook his head. "No, I'm not. I'm not fine. This whole thing is just wrong." His voice caught in his throat. "I didn't ask for this."  
  
The ensign glanced questioningly at T'Pol.  
  
"Ensign," T'Pol said, "I would appreciate it if you would see that no one goes into the transporter room. An experiment went awry and there are some potentially hazardous fumes in there. I was just escorting Commander Tucker to sickbay and will return to decontaminate the room as the fumes do not affect me."  
  
The ensign glanced with concern at the doors to the transporter room. "Hazardous fumes? Yeah, I'll make sure no one goes in."  
  
"Thank you," T'Pol said and turned her attention back to Tucker.  
  
=-=-=  
  
"I started bawling like a little baby, Captain," Tucker said to Archer as they sat down to dinner. Archer cracked a smile and Tucker, as he reached out to dish up a generous helping of mashed potatoes, exclaimed, "It was embarrassing!"  
  
"Then I guess it was a good thing T'Pol provided that ensign with an excuse for your behavior. From what I understand she got stuck cleaning up the transporter room."  
  
"I hate mood swings," Tucker grumbled. "The whole thing still seems surreal, like it's not happening to me even though I have to deal with it everyday. I still can't bring myself to, you know, look at it on the screen when the doctor does his scans."  
  
"Afraid?"  
  
"Yep, terrified," Tucker answered looking down at his plate. As he used his fork to play with his mashed potatoes, he said softly, "Just not quite ready for that."  
  
"I'd say give yourself time," Archer said, "but you have only about two weeks. Maybe you should take a break."  
  
Tucker shook his head. "I'm happiest when I'm working."  
  
"You just want to play mad scientist with the transporter," Archer said with mock accusation.  
  
Between bites of potato, Tucker replied, "You... can... expect a few... flaws...early on..." He took a final big bite of mashed potato before finishing, "I started looking at the storm patterns T'Pol has been tracking to look for weaknesses, I thought it would be a good idea to get an early start. Besides," he grinned, "when else do I get to play mad scientist?" He glanced about the table. "Do you think we could get some grilled cheese sandwiches and lime jello?"  
  
Archer looked amused. "I am sure we can get those sandwiches, not so sure about the jello." He rang for the steward and asked for the sandwiches plus any lime or lemon desert that might be available. Turning his attention back to Tucker, he asked, "T'Pol's survey is not going to be done for another week, don't you think you're jumping the gun a little?"  
  
"Just trying to keep busy, Captain."  
  
"I don't want you to overdo it."  
  
Tucker shook his head and with an admonishing tone said, "Don't be a mother hen."  
  
Grinning, Archer said, "I think 'mother hen' is part of my job description; I have to look out for my crew."  
  
"Speaking of the crew... have they been saying anything about me?" Tucker asked with curiosity and a note of paranoia.  
  
"Hoshi and Travis had been asking about you," Archer replied, "since you have been kind of avoiding them. Reed told them it was a matter of Starfleet security and, while I doubt that quelled their curiosity, they did stop probing."  
  
Tucker bristled at the mention of Reed's name. "Still a security risk, am I?"  
  
"It's his job to worry about these things, I don't think it has anything to do with you personally."  
  
Tucker snorted, but before he could respond further, the steward reentered and placed a plate of sandwiches and some glasses of a yellowish liquid in front of them. "I'm afraid that lemonade was the only thing chef had, sir."  
  
Archer nodded. "Thank you, that will be fine. I think that's all we will be needing tonight."  
  
"Very good, sir," the steward said and exited.  
  
Tucker grabbed one of the sandwiches and started munching on it. He swallowed and then sipped from the lemonade. "I really wanted something with lime. I really don't understand these cravings they..." Tucker trailed off, his eyes wandering, and a worried expression played across his features.  
  
"Trip?" Archer asked, concerned, but Tucker didn't respond. "Are you all right?"  
  
Tucker shifted his eyes back to Archer. "I think I need the doctor."  
  
=-=-=   
  
As he sat shirtless on the bed in sickbay with Dr. Phlox scanning the swelling in his chest, Trip Tucker drummed his fingers on his thigh impatiently. Finally, he said, "Doc, it moved, can you just tell me what the hell that means?"  
  
Looking up from the data his scans were giving him, Phlox replied, "It means that it is healthy, Commander." He smiled. "All things considered, I would say you are progressing rather well."  
  
Tucker glanced at Captain Archer who had accompanied him to sickbay. Archer's face relaxed a little. "That's a relief," he said.  
  
"Yes," Phlox said, "but I think from here on out it would be best for you to remain here in sickbay."  
  
"What? No!" Tucker protested.  
  
"It would be the safest thing for you so I am afraid that I must order you to stay."  
  
Tucker looked up at Archer and queried, "Captain?"  
  
"Doctor's orders, Trip. I'm afraid not even I can override those."  
  
Tucker sighed impatiently. "Does my delicate condition preclude me from continuing to work?"  
  
"You may work out of sickbay," Phlox said. "I just want to be able to monitor you closely." He raised up the screen next to the bed Tucker sat on and pressed some buttons on the computer. "I would like you to see this, Commander, though you have been hesitant to do so thus far." On the screen, the image of a small, scaled humanoid curled up into a ball was displayed.  
  
Tucker glanced away, but curiosity compelled him to look back to the screen, and he asked in a hushed voice, "Is that... is that really it?"  
  
"Yes, that's her," Phlox replied.  
  
"Her?" Tucker asked, somewhat dazed.  
  
"She appears to be a reproductive Xyrillian," Phlox said. "I believe sex is determined by temperature with their species. Had your temperature been over one hundred degrees, I believe it would have been male."  
  
With quiet wonder, Tucker said, "That's incredible."  
  
The image on the screen suddenly squirmed and Tucker gasped in surprise and looked down at his chest. "Now, *that* is a weird feeling." The fetus moved again and Tucker laughed, "There she goes again!"  
  
Archer put a hand near Tucker and asked, "May I?"  
  
Tucker nodded. "Go ahead, Captain."  
  
Archer placed a hand over the swell. For several moments nothing happened but then the fetus started fidgeting again. Archer's face broke into a broad grin. "Wow."  
  
Smiling, Tucker closed his eyes and focused on the sensations within his body, "I couldn't have said it better myself, Captain."  
  
=-=-=  
  
Sub-Commander T'Pol entered the dimmed room where Commander Tucker lay in his sickbay bed. He was snoring softly and T'Pol stepped silently up to the panels that displayed the readouts from the instruments monitoring Tucker's status. As Dr. Phlox had no medical staff and T'Pol's background was in science, he had asked her to assist him with Tucker and she had agreed. Her eyes looked over the readouts and she noted that everything appeared to be normal.  
  
"Do you think I made the right decision?"   
  
Startled by the voice, T'Pol turned to look at Tucker. "Did I wake you, Commander?"  
  
"Nah," Tucker said, and sat up and glanced down at the swell in his torso. "'fraid she did that. I think she's thirsty." He reached for the pitcher of water and glass on the table next to the bed, but he groaned suddenly and his arms dropped to his sides, his face breaking out into a sweat.  
  
"Are you all right?" T'Pol asked glancing back at the readings. Heart rate appeared a little high, but not unusually so.  
  
"Fine," he said weakly, "just some cramping."  
  
"Let me get the water for you," she said. She came to the bedside table and, after pouring some water into a glass, handed it to Tucker.  
  
"Thank you," he said gratefully and gulped down the water.   
  
"You should try to return to sleep," T'Pol suggested.   
  
"You're probably right," Tucker said and then grimaced, "but I don't think I will be able to. She's pretty active."  
  
T'Pol picked up a handheld scanner from the bedside table. "Would you mind opening your shirt, Commander?"  
  
Tucker unbuttoned his shirt and looked down as T'Pol ran the scanner over the lump. The skin was smooth and taught with purplish discoloration. The rapid stretching of the skin had caused some bruising. The lump stirred slightly.  
  
"She does appear to be restless, Commander, but all signs appear normal."  
  
As he re-buttoned his shirt, he said, "You didn't answer my question, you know."  
  
"What question?"  
  
"Do you think I made the right decision? To carry her to term."  
  
"If that is what you want, then it is the right decision for you."  
  
"I hope that I did," he said softly. "I think that I did." He looked up at her.   
"Do you want to have kids someday?"  
  
"Yes," T'Pol replied simply.  
  
"How are children on Vulcan brought up?"  
  
"Parenting style varies, but for the most part young Vulcans are raised strictly and educated early on in the traditions and philosophies of our people."  
  
"Does the thought of becoming a parent scare you?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Well, you're responsible for a whole other life. I mean, what if you mess up?"  
  
"I will not."  
  
Growing frustrated, Tucker said, "But what if I mess up? This isn't even a human child. I am afraid for her and what she will face on Earth, a stranger in a strange land. Human children can be very cruel to one another, how will they treat her?"  
  
"I do not know. You are concerned about an uncertain future, which I understand. However, I believe you are excessively concerned. Earth is becoming home to other species every day. You assume human children won't accept her, but humans are highly adaptable creatures especially the young. Perhaps you underestimate them. Perhaps you underestimate yourself."  
  
"Maybe. I guess only time will tell." He leaned back. "Thank you for the drink, T'Pol, I won't take anymore of your time."  
  
"Let me know if I can be of any further assistance."   
  
Tucker nodded and rolled over onto his side, his back facing her. He started to hum softly to himself, and, before she exited, T'Pol said, "Rest well, Commander."  
  
=-=-=  
  
From where he was working, Dr. Phlox stood watching Commander Tucker and Captain Archer. Tucker had been in sickbay for a week and had been a rather unpredictable patient in both mood and energy level. One minute he would be euphoric, the next angry, and the next depressed. He also went from sluggish and exhausted to energetic and restless. Phlox had agreed to allow him to take brief walks outside of sickbay. Those times were generally in the evenings when the baby tended to be the most active and Tucker had managed to avoid speaking with the few crewmembers that saw him on those walks.   
  
Phlox estimated that in one week the gestation would be over and then he would surgically remove the baby from Tucker in what he hoped would be a relatively simple operation. The fetus had started to separate itself from Tucker's heart and a few other vital organs, much to Phlox's relief, which would make things much easier. T'Pol had agreed to help him with Tucker's care and though there were biologists on the ship who might potentially have been of help, Phlox honored Tucker's wishes to keep the matter quiet; humans were a very stubborn species. Phlox listened in as Tucker told Captain Archer about the latest development in his pregnancy.  
  
"I know this is going to sound strange, Captain, but I think we can sense each other's thoughts."  
  
"A telepathic link?"  
  
"I can't quite describe it," Tucker replied. "I just know things about her and about what she's feeling and what she wants. She likes cheese," he said, and then sighed sadly, "but she does *not* like catfish." He paused, becoming internally focused, and then said, "She knows I am talking to you about her." He smiled. "Yes, she knows."  
  
Archer grinned at Tucker. "Not all bad then."  
  
Tucker shook his head and he laughed, "No, not at all, the feeling is... well... I like it." His smiled faded and he shifted his body around. "Like it except for these cramps that is."  
  
Phlox got up from his workstation and approached Tucker and Archer. He said, "Telepathy between host and fetus, this would show why a male Xyrillian would be inclined to care for offspring not genetically related. If there was already an emotional bond, blood ties might not matter so much."  
  
Tucker nodded. "Regarding those postnatal responsibilities we talked about..." He paused before continuing. "Whether I wanted this to happen or not, it's happened, and someone will have to take care of her. I know it means I have to leave Enterprise and go back to Earth." Archer started to say something, but Tucker continued, "I am sure that we can agree that a starship is no place for a child."  
  
For a moment Archer said nothing, but then finally, "You're right, Trip, and when our survey here is done, we will be returning to Earth. I know this is hard for you, it will be hard for us to."  
  
"No regrets, Captain," Tucker said, smiling wanly. "Life is strange and unpredictable, but that's what keeps it interesting, right?"  
  
"Right," Archer said, and patted Tucker on the shoulder. "I think I am going to call it a day. I'll try and stop by tomorrow, but right now I have a dog waiting for his dinner and his walk."  
  
"Night, Captain," Tucker said.   
  
"Night, Trip."  
  
Phlox walked Archer out of Tucker's room, but then pulled him aside. At Archer's questioning glance, Phlox spoke, "I am not in the habit of discussing the problems of a patient with anyone other than the patient, I hold that confidentiality sacred. But given the," he searched for the words, "unusual nature of this situation, I thought it best to be frank with you."  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"Commander Tucker is putting up a good front of being relatively comfortable with his situation, bu--"  
  
"Front?"  
  
"Yes," Phlox said. "In fact, he is in constant and severe pain. I am sure you could see that he has been sweating and prone to fidgeting. This is not due to any cramping, as I have heard him tell you."  
  
"What is causing it?"  
  
"He has been in pain to varying degrees since this started simply due to the taxation on his physiology. Though it is a good sign that the fetus is detaching itself his organs, it is also growing much more rapidly than before. His ribs are starting to crack under the pressure."  
  
"What can we do?" Archer asked, concerned.  
  
"This telepathic development is very interesting and it is actually helping him. When you were visiting him just now and he was connecting with the fetus, his endorphin level went up and I think that helps him deal with the pain. I notice that when he is engaging in restful or repetitive, or rather mindless, behavior, these are the times that he communes with the child. The work he has been doing with the transport stabilizers has been causing him stress and frustration. I would prefer that, if he must work on anything at all, he work on something rather simple. Perhaps you could contrive of some sort of easy to solve, but time consuming problem with the ship for him to work on," Phlox suggested. "That is unless you can convince him to take up a relaxing hobby for the duration of the pregnancy."  
  
Nodding to Phlox, Archer said, "Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Doctor. Before he starts working tomorrow, I will see what I can do."  
  
"Very well, Captain, have a pleasant evening," Phlox said.  
  
"You too," Archer said before turning away and heading for his quarters.  
  
=-=-=  
  
"Quiet!" Jonathan Archer grumbled sleepily. "Porthos, shush!"  
  
The little beagle had started barking excitedly, for what Archer assumed was no particular reason. Then Archer's door began to chime incessantly, causing Porthos even more excitement and Archer slipped out of bed. Grabbing his bathrobe, he pulled it on over his pajamas and answered the door. He opened his eyes wide in surprise at his visitor. "Doctor?"  
  
"Commander Tucker is missing!"  
  
"Missing?" Archer asked, confused. "Where did he go?"  
  
"I don't know. About twenty minutes ago, he started complaining of chest pains. I went to get some instruments and when I got back, he was gone. I came here at once."  
  
Archer went to the computer in his room and pressed a button that activated the ship's public address. "Sub-Commander T'Pol and Lieutenant Reed, report to sickbay. T'Pol and Reed, report to sickbay." He turned back to Phlox and said, "Let's go."  
  
Archer stepped out of his quarters and shut the door, ignoring Porthos' whining protestations.  
  
=-=-=  
  
"I don't understand, where could he have gone? Why?" Reed asked as he ran his fingers through his hair, trying to smooth it out. Like Archer, Reed and T'Pol had both been awakened unexpectedly.  
  
"I talked to him earlier," Archer said, "and he seemed fine."  
  
Phlox frowned. "He likes to take walks in the evening, but he always tell T'Pol or myself, whichever of us is here. He is at a critical time and needs to be closely monitored. The baby is separating from his organs and it has been more restless lately."  
  
T'Pol offered, "This is conjecture, but it is possible that though humans do not feel an instinct to isolate themselves before giving birth, Xyrillians might."  
  
"If he is being driven by hormones and by the influence of the baby's own instincts," Phlox said, "I fear he may have done just as T'Pol suggests."  
  
"I'll get a team and start looking for him straightaway, sir," Reed said.  
  
Archer nodded. "Please do that, Lieutenant, but just in case that is not enough..." Archer went to one of the computer panels in the wall and pressed a button to address the entire ship. "Attention Enterprise crew, this is Captain Archer speaking. If anyone has any knowledge of the whereabouts of Commander Tucker, please come to sickbay immediately." He released the button and turned back the others. "There are only so many places he can hide. Reed, get your team together."  
  
"Aye, sir," Reed said and left sickbay, taking with him a handheld communicator in order to keep in touch with the others. Several minutes later a crewman entered sickbay and approached Archer. "Sir," he said, "I saw Commander Tucker about fifteen minutes ago one deck below."  
  
"What was he doing?"  
  
"He was walking down the corridor very quickly and it looked like he had something hidden under his shirt. I said hello to him, but he brushed past me without saying anything."  
  
"Thank you, crewman," Archer said before opening the communicator to contact Lieutenant Reed.  
  
=-=-=  
  
Reed peered into the Jeffries tube with a flashlight and then shook his head. "Nothing," he said to the two security crewmen who were with him. Archer had ordered him to start the search on the deck below sickbay and to continue moving down, while he and T'Pol would search the upper decks with Phlox remaining in sickbay.   
  
The team reached a juncture where the corridor split into two directions. Reed tossed his head in one direction and said, "You two, look down there, I will keep going on ahead."  
  
"Yes, sir," the crewmen had replied before heading down the other corridor.  
  
Opening the door to a supply room, Reed stepped inside and looked around, peering between the storage containers. He listened for sounds of movement, but there was no one else in the room. Sighing, he went back out into the corridor and closed the door to the supply room.   
  
This whole situation would not have happened if they had just taken his advice and quarantined Tucker. It would have been in everyone's best interest.   
  
As he began searching another supply room, Reed couldn't help but entertain visions of horrible, man-eating aliens killing the crew and taking over the ship. No, he amended, they would impregnate all the males with their parasitic offspring and then take over the ship. The supply room search revealed that absolutely no one was hidden inside, and, frustrated, he stepped out into the corridor once again.  
  
They would find Tucker of course, of that he had no doubt. The captain was right: there were only so many places on a starship that one could hide. He opened the door to the next room and stepped inside. Glancing around, he saw that it was the transporter room; a room quite devoid of hiding places. He was about to leave when he froze, considering again what the captain had said. There were only so many places on a starship that one could hide. He walked over to the transporter controls and looked down at them. "Bloody hell," he muttered.  
  
=-=-=   
  
"The reason that we cannot find Commander Tucker is because he is no longer on the ship," Reed said to Archer, T'Pol, and Phlox. "He transported down to the planet's surface. The transporter logs confirm it."  
  
"Do we know anything yet about the planet's surface?" Archer asked.  
  
T'Pol shook her head. "I have only just finished the storm survey and none of the experiments so far have been successful."  
  
"Could he have run any tests that we didn't know about?"  
  
"Yes, he has access to the equipment he would require to run such tests," T'Pol replied.  
  
"But he has been in sickbay this entire week," Reed said.  
  
"Yes, but he still took walks around the ship. I wonder if he made any trips to the transporter room."  
  
"Let me go down there, sir," Reed said. "I doubt he would have transported to the planet without being certain it could support human life."  
  
"That is assuming," T'Pol interjected, "that Commander Tucker is behaving in a logical, rational manner."   
  
Archer shook his head at Reed. "T'Pol is right. I am not going to let anyone go down to that planet until we know something about it. Trip could already be dead, I am not going to risk more lives. I want to know for certain that a human can withstand the environment." He turned to T'Pol. "If he did beam a probe down and back, that should be in the logs. Would we be able to find that probe and gather the data from it?"  
  
T'Pol nodded. "We can, but it will take time. We also must wait for a break in the upper atmosphere in the vicinity where Commander Tucker transported down. That could take hours, it could even take days."  
  
"Get to work then," Archer said. "Pray that we get to Trip on time. Pray that it is not too late already."  
  
=-=-=  
  
"Weird," Security Crewman Yeats said, looking around the surface of the class CX planet. The ground was flat and black, extending into a smooth plain that disappeared into the dim, gray mist that filled the air. To the west were black cliffs rising hundreds of feet up, vaguely defined in the mist. Immediately to Yeats' left stood the trunk of a huge fungal organism, its arching branches reached up beyond Yeats' range of vision. He shined his flashlight on it and the smooth, glossy orange surface of the organism started to sizzle. He quickly pointed the light away from the organism, but it continued to bubble, black liquid pouring out of it and filling the air with a sulfuric scent. "Weird," Yeats repeated.  
  
"Quite. Let's get moving," Reed said, shouldering the bag he had brought with him that contained flares, first aid, and extra transport stabilizers. It was five hours after Commander Tucker had disappeared that Reed had finally been granted permission to take one crewman with him down to the surface of the planet. Within two hours, T'Pol had located the probe Tucker had successfully sent to the surface of the planet. According to the probe's log, it had been sent two days previously. The data it recorded indicated that the surface atmosphere consisted of ten percent nitrogen and ninety percent oxygen, far more oxygen than on Earth. The gravity of the planet was greater than that of Earth, but within human tolerance, and the temperature was also within human limits at approximately sixty-two degrees Fahrenheit. What was more, it still had its stabilizer attached to it, Tucker's calibrations saved in its computer. With this news, Archer had quickly agreed to permit Reed to go to the surface, but they had had to wait two hours for a window to open up. Now he and Yeats had forty minutes to locate Tucker before the electromagnetic storms shifted and closed the window up for another six hours.   
  
A shriek echoed from the direction of the cliffs, and Yeats, who was unaware of Tucker's condition, called out, "Commander Tucker!"   
  
"Shhh!" Reed hissed and then explained, "It is important that he not know we're here looking for him. There are rather more hiding places on this planet than on the ship and only the two of us to do the search."  
  
"Yes, sir. Sorry."  
  
Together they walked toward the cliffs and saw a number of caves dotting the surface. Pale blue light emanated from the mouths of the caves. Reed and Yeats both drew their phase pistols and entered a shallow cavern. "What is this glowing blue stuff?" Yeats asked and reached out to touch it, but Reed grabbed his wrist.  
  
"Don't touch it."  
  
"It looks like some kind of slime mold."  
  
"A slime mold that might be deadly to humans," Reed insisted. "Don't touch it."  
  
Another yell rang through the air. They froze, listening for it again, hoping to ascertain from which direction it came.  
  
"We should split up and look in these caves," Yeats suggested.  
  
Reed shook his head. "Too dangerous. We have no idea what may be living on this planet."  
  
"Still, sir," Yeats persisted, "if we split up we're more likely to find him and I promise to not touch the glowing blue slime."  
  
"Very well," Reed yielded and handed a small device to Yeats. "Here's a flare. Just twist it," he twisted the device in demonstration and it began to glow with a brilliant red light, "and set it outside the cave. They should be bright enough to see through the mist. Call me on your communicator if you find him. I will do the same." Reed twisted the flare again and it stopped glowing.  
  
With that they split up and began exploring the cliffside.   
  
=-=-=  
  
Archer paced the floor in sickbay wanting to do something more than just wait. He wished he could be on the surface searching with Reed, but he knew that he had to remain onboard to command the ship. He looked at T'Pol who sat in a chair reading; she was the picture of calm. Like himself, T'Pol had dressed in the clean scrubs that Dr. Phlox had insisted be worn by anyone who would be present should immediate surgery be required for Tucker. Stopping, Archer said to T'Pol, "They should have found him by now."  
  
T'Pol glanced up from the computer pad she held. "They still have thirteen minutes before the window closes."  
  
"What are you reading?"  
  
"It is a survey done last year about the atmosphere of a CX planet studied by a Vulcan science team."  
  
"How can you be reading that? How can you be calm at a time like this?"  
  
T'Pol raised a speculative eyebrow at him. "How is it that you can be so agitated at a time like this? Is it helping the situation?"  
  
Frustrated by her Vulcan logic, Archer turned away from T'Pol and resumed pacing when Reed's voice came over Archer's communicator, scratchy and weak. "Reed to ...cher. We ha... ...ocated Comman... ...cker... to the ship... ..opy?"  
  
Archer picked up the communicator. "We copy, Reed," he said, relieved, and then spoke into the communicator that linked them to the transporter room, "Transporter room, lock onto Reed, Tucker, and Yeats. Transport them directly to sickbay."  
  
"Aye sir," the transporter technician replied.  
  
In a shimmer of light and sound, three figures materialized in the middle of sickbay. Tucker was lying on the floor, squirming as Reed and Yeats held him down. A blue colored gel coated much of Tucker and it was smeared on Reed and Yeats. The two security men picked up the struggling Tucker and hoisted him onto the table Phlox had prepared. Archer stepped forward and looked at Reed who said, "He did not want us to touch him, in fact he became violent." Reed held down Tucker's arms as Phlox tightened restraints over them while Yeats held down his legs. "He was thrashing about on the floor of a cave, yelling at us to get away," Reed said.  
  
Phlox moved down and tightened straps over Tucker's legs. He looked at Reed and Yeats. "Thank you, gentlemen, for returning him safely. You might want to go decontaminate now," he said, looking at the blue gel smeared on their hands and uniforms. They nodded and left the room.  
  
Phlox started to cut away the clothes from Tucker's body and T'Pol wiped away the glowing blue slime. Tucker's eyes were wild, filled with fear and frustration. "Let me go!" he cried. He turned his head and looked at Archer, pleading, "Please, Captain... Jon, let me go."  
  
"Easy, Trip," Archer said. He moved to Tucker's side and reached out to grip his   
hand  
  
Phlox pressed a hypo spray against Tucker's neck and Tucker relaxed a little.   
  
"Oh God, it hurts," Tucker panted.  
  
"Can't we do anything else for him?" Archer demanded.  
  
"I'm sorry, Captain," Phlox said. "I know he is in pain, but what I gave him should take the edge off." He redirected his attention to T'Pol. "Get some tocolytic drugs, we may be able to halt this labor."  
  
Suddenly Tucker's body stiffened, and his eyes rolled back in his head. Phlox looked at the medical readouts. "The baby is dislodging his pericardium! Sub-Commander, forget the tocolytics and get the incubator, be ready to take care of this baby!" Tucker's body went limp and his breathing became shallow. Phlox placed an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose.  
  
Then Phlox reached for a scalpel and, activating it, used the laser to slit open Tucker's chest. The laser beam cauterized the wound, though some blood leaked out. Underneath the skin, a web of alien green tendrils was wrapped around Tucker's ribs. The tendrils branched out from a sac with a vaguely humanoid shape. Phlox sliced the tendrils away and, reaching in, pulled out the sac. He set it on the table that T'Pol had brought out along with the incubator, and he split it open. Milky yellow liquid spilled across the table and onto the floor and Phlox pulled the sac away to reveal a pale, green creature. It started to make a high pitched keening noise and Phlox started cleaning it off.  
  
Suddenly, Trip's eyes shot open and he gasped, his heart rate shooting up. As blood gurgled up from Tucker's lips, Archer yelled, "Doctor!"  
  
"I will care for the child," T'Pol said calmly. The doctor nodded and turned back to Tucker.  
  
"He needs surgery immediately, these tendrils are constricting and piercing his vital organs, I have to remove them. T'Pol," he said over his shoulder, "I need your help."  
  
She nodded and, wrapping the child in a blanket, handed her to Archer. "Make sure she stays warm." Stunned, Archer nodded and took the baby, while Phlox resumed working on Tucker with T'Pol's assistance.   
  
=-=-=  
  
"What are those again?" Archer asked, eyeing the round, slimy little purple organisms slowly sliding around on Tucker's chest.  
  
"They are Grumpun Slugs, they come from my home planet. Marvelous little healers."  
  
"Maybe before you wake him, you could, uh, take them off?"  
  
"Certainly, Captain," Phlox said and went to the side of the bed, Stooping over, he picked up a bucket then plucked the slugs off of Tucker's chest. When he had removed them, he frowned and looked from Tucker's chest to the bucket and back again.  
  
"What?" Archer asked. "Is something wrong?"  
  
"One seems to have gone missing..."  
  
Archer instinctively glanced down at his feet, which, to his relief, were slug free.  
  
"No matter," Phlox said optimistically. "He'll turn up eventually." He put a lid over the bucket and set it underneath the table. After picking up a hypo spray, he glanced expectantly at Archer who nodded and came forward to stand next to Tucker.   
  
The spray made a gentle hiss as Phlox pressed it to Tucker's neck and after only a moment, Tucker's eyes opened. "She's gone," he said hoarsely and glanced down to the left side of his torso.   
  
"From you, yes, but she is right here next to you," Phlox said and stepped back to show the incubator with the sleeping infant.  
  
He squinted and looked toward the incubator with confusion in his eyes. Looking back the Archer, he said, "Thirsty."  
  
"Oh no," Phlox said. "Commander, I am afraid your body can't handle drinking anything right now."  
  
"Thirsty," Tucker repeated, his voice raspy.  
  
"I assure you that I am administering the nutrients you require. Drinking a glass of water would make you violently ill."  
  
Tucker made a noise of angry frustration and Archer asked, "What about ice?"  
  
Phlox thought for a moment then said, "No cubes. A couple of small slivers. I keep ice in sickbay, I will go get it." Phlox stepped out of Tucker's room.  
  
Archer stepped up the incubator and put a hand on it. "Thought about any names yet?"  
  
"So sorry," Tucker said.  
  
"Hmmmm... I don't think that's a very good one, Trip," Archer said, trying to inject a little levity into the situation.  
  
"Don't know why. Stupid to go." His voice choked up with frustration, "Sorry."  
  
"I know you are," Archer said softly. "We don't have to talk about this now."  
  
"Had to go," Tucker continued, his voice scratchy. "Had to go. Needed to be alone. Stupid. Could have died..." he trailed off and for a moment it looked as if he were about to go back to sleep, but then his eyes popped open. "Malcolm?"  
  
"He's fine," Archer assured. "He and Yeats saved you. Fortunately everything they came into contact with was harmless."  
  
Phlox reentered the room before either Tucker or Archer could try to say anything more. "Ah, here we are, Commander," the doctor said, and held up a small cup containing ice chips. Phlox went to Tucker's side and pressed the cup to Tucker's lips and tilted it to ease a few of the chips into Tucker's mouth. After three chips, Phlox pulled the cup away. "That's enough for now. You should be well enough in a few days if those slugs do their jobs."  
  
"Slugs?" Tucker said, confused and somewhat alarmed.  
  
"Don't worry about it, Trip," Archer said, "just one of the doctor's unique remedies."  
  
"Yes, just relax," Phlox said.  
  
Tucker's eyelids started to droop as Phlox continued to talk to him.  
  
"You may be interested to know that the nipples you grew are not functional nor are the nipples that are a normal part of your physiology. But you will be pleased to know that the sugars that your daughter's body requires are easily replicated and--"  
  
"She's gone!" Tucker suddenly yelled and looked around, bewildered, but lost energy again. "Please... sleep." Tucker turned onto his side, his back facing the incubator, and closed his eyes.  
  
Archer glanced questioningly at Phlox.  
  
"He is still somewhat disoriented, Captain. As the drugs and alien hormones leave his system, he will become more alert. It should take only a couple of days. Aside from some initial difficulties, the surgery went very smoothly and he should easily make a full physical recovery."  
  
Staring silently for a moment at Tucker's dozing form, Archer asked, "What about emotionally?"  
  
"There's no way to know, but I will monitor him for postpartum depression."  
  
"You'll let me know if anything goes wrong?"  
  
"Of course, Captain," Phlox said.  
  
Archer nodded. "Then I will return to the bridge. Thank you, Doctor," he said and left sickbay.  
  
=-=-= 3  
  
Tucker slowly came awake and became aware of his surroundings. His room was dimly lit and he saw someone's back to him.  
  
"T'Pol?" he ventured.  
  
T'Pol turned around and Tucker could see that she had been standing at the incubator, adjusting some of its settings. "Good evening, Commander," she said.  
  
"How long have I been unconscious?" he asked as he sat up.  
  
"You have been in and out of consciousness for two days," T'Pol said as she ran a handheld scanner over his body. "How do you feel?"  
  
"Achy," he said and then added more definitely, "and hungry."  
  
"You may have soft foods. She went to some storage drawers along the wall, opened one, and removed two cylindrical containers and a spoon. These she offered to Tucker.  
  
"What is it?" His tone was a little concerned. He vaguely recalled the doctor saying something about slugs, but he couldn't place the context.  
  
"It is applesauce."  
  
"Ah," Tucker said and accepted the containers. He set one on the bed and held the other one up and eyed it critically before opening it and taking a taste. He shrugged and commented, "Could be worse."  
  
He quickly finished off the applesauce and, after putting the spoon and empty containers on the nightstand, he slid off the bed and stood up a little shakily. T'Pol had resumed inputting adjustments on the incubator and Tucker stood next to her and looked at the sleeping infant.  
  
"Wow," he said softly and was quiet. He then said, puzzled, "All the Xyrillians I saw were kind of reddish colored."  
  
"It would seem that they become that shade when they are mature, but at this stage, they are not."  
  
Tucker looked down and continued to study his daughter. Her scaly skin was pale green. Her small hands were balled up into little fists and tucked under her chin.   
  
"It's amazing isn't it?" Tucker said, hushed. "Life I mean."  
  
He glanced up at T'Pol and saw her nod in agreement.  
  
"Can I hold her?"  
  
"No," T'Pol said and stopped from her work to make eye contact with him. "She is not stable."  
  
Tucker felt his pulse quicken with panic. "What do you mean 'not stable'?"  
  
"The doctor is having difficulty adjusting the atmosphere in the incubator to suit her. He believed she would be able to tolerate human atmospheric preferences and if not, then he could utilize the same atmosphere as the Xyrillian vessel, but he was wrong. Apparently Xyrillian infants cannot tolerate our atmosphere nor the same atmosphere as adult Xyrillians."  
  
"Well, you and the doctor will find the right atmospheric requirements, right?"   
  
"I don't know, Commander," T'Pol said evenly.  
  
"If you can't?" He didn't want to hear the answer, but at the same time, he needed to hear it.   
  
T'Pol looked uncomfortable. "You should rest. You should not become agitated."  
  
"Answer my question!" Tucker demanded, a desperate anger accenting his words.  
  
"If we can't," T'Pol said, "then she will die."  
  
"No," Tucker said defiantly, with more strength of voice than he had of body. He leaned back on the bed for support and repeated, "No."   
  
=-=-=  
  
Over the next week, Tucker quickly recovered his physical strength. He learned that Phlox had recruited two of the ship's exobiologists to help in the effort to save the baby though, to maintain confidentiality, he had not told them where she had come from. Tucker figured that, given his interest in the baby, they probably suspected she had something to do with him, but they made no inquiries perhaps sensing Tucker did not want to talk about it.  
  
At first, Tucker remained in sickbay, keeping vigil over his daughter, but as her prognosis had worsened, he had insisted on returning to his duties in engineering. He had avoided social interaction outside of work and deflected questions from the other crewmembers with a terse, "I am not at liberty to say." Now, visiting sickbay, he stared vacantly as Dr. Phlox worked over the incubator. Archer and T'Pol were observing from the window that separated the room from the rest of sickbay. Finally, Phlox set down his medical scanner and turned to face Tucker.  
  
"I am sorry, Commander, but there is nothing more that I can do. She has maybe three hours left."  
  
Swallowing hard, Tucker nodded and forced himself to glance at his baby and then he looked at Phlox and said, "Thank you," and then, more stiffly, "I'll... I'll be in engineering. Keep me informed of the situation."  
  
From where she was standing, T'Pol glanced quickly at Archer and said, "Humans are highly emotional, this behavior seems unusual."  
  
"No, it's not," Archer said, his eyes fixed on Tucker. "It's called denial."  
  
Tucker came to the observation area, nodded at Archer, and said, "Captain."  
  
"Trip, a moment please." He looked at T'Pol and Phlox, who had joined them, and added a quiet request, "Alone."  
  
T'Pol and Phlox nodded went to another part of sickbay, as Archer pulled Tucker into the room with the incubator. He touched a button on the wall and the glass in the window turned opaque, giving them more privacy.  
  
"Don't you think that you ought to stay?" Archer asked.  
  
"What for? I can't save her."  
  
"I know you can't, but you can be with her."  
  
"Our connection is broken," Tucker said, frustrated. "She doesn't even know I'm there."  
  
"Doesn't she?"  
  
"I should never have gone down to that planet. I still don't know why I did. Even if I was under the influence of Xyrillian hormones and my baby's instincts, there must still be a part of me that made that choice. Perhaps if she'd been a little healthier when she was born, this wouldn't be happening. But I left didn't I? I put myself in danger." His voice was becoming louder. "I put Reed and Yeats in danger, but the worst in my mind is I put her in danger and now she is paying the price for my recklessness."  
  
"Don't do this to yourself."  
  
"Just drop it, Jon," Tucker snapped. "I am supposed to protect her, right? But I didn't and I can't." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Just drop it."   
  
Tucker turned to walk away but Archer put a restraining hand on his shoulder and said more urgently, "For God's sake, don't do this to yourself!"  
  
"I can't save her!" Tucker yelled, spinning around to face Archer. For several seconds Tucker just stared at him and Archer could see the anger and despair in his friend's eyes. "I can't save her," Tucker repeated, his voice choked. He started breathing harder and tears welled up from his eyes. He leaned against the wall and slid down, his eyes fixed on his baby in the incubator. "Can't save her," he sobbed.  
  
Archer sat down next to Tucker and put an arm around him. His eyes also fixed on the infant. He whispered, "And that's not your fault, Trip, it's not your fault."  
  
Tucker closed his eyes, leaned against Archer, and continued to cry.   
  
=-=-=  
  
Archer cleared his throat and Phlox looked up from the station where he sat working. "How is he?"  
  
"In pain," Archer said, "but I think he's ready." He glanced in the direction of the room with the incubator. Through the doorway, he could see Tucker sitting in a chair with his head and hands resting on the incubator.   
  
Phlox nodded and followed Archer's line of sight with his own eyes. "You know, I love what I do. Being a doctor allows me to explore the universe in more ways than space travel alone, but there are times when I would give it up."  
  
"Sometimes people just die," Archer said quietly, "for no reason."  
  
"You are right, Captain," Phlox smiled wanly as he got to his feet. "It's not death that bothers me. It's suffering. When I have to tell a father that there is nothing I can do to prevent his baby from dying, that is when I hate what I do."  
  
Archer nodded, understanding. As they walked toward the room, he asked, "T'Pol?"  
  
"I sensed that she was uncomfortable. She is as helpless to help that child as I am," Phlox said. "I asked if she wanted to return to the bridge, and she did."  
  
They entered the room and Tucker looked up at them, his eyes tinged with red. "Can I hold her?"  
  
"Yes, of course, Commander." Phlox went to the incubator and opened it. The infant stirred slightly and opened her pale yellow eyes, looking up at the faces peering down at her. She gave a small cough as Tucker leaned forward and scooped her up.   
  
"She's so tiny," Tucker said, more to himself than the others, as he gazed at her. He looked up at Phlox and Archer. "I think I'll name her Alexis, it's a name I've always liked."  
  
Both Phlox and Archer nodded, and Phlox asked, "Would you like us to leave?"  
  
"Yes," Tucker said quietly and began to rock Alexis gently in his arms.  
  
Archer and Phlox withdrew from the room, leaving Tucker alone with his daughter.  
  
Tucker held her and never broke his gaze from her. He talked to her, telling her everything he knew about Xyrillians and her mother, Ah'Len, and about Earth and his own family. She lived for just over two hours, but it was many hours after that before Tucker could bring himself to put her down.  
  
=-=-=  
  
Archer insisted that Tucker take time off from his duties and barred him from engineering. Tucker argued strongly with him, but Archer could not be moved. "I know you, Trip," he said, "I know you'll push yourself too hard. I don't want you to burn out." Tucker knew Archer was right, but was still angry.   
  
Phlox asked what he wanted done with Alexis' body and Tucker requested that it be cremated. He kept the ashes in a small urn on his desk. Phlox asked if Tucker wanted any sort of memorial service, but Tucker said no, that he just wanted it to be over. He spent most of his time in his quarters staring at the urn and feeling a general sense of unreality and despair. He ate little and did not talk much to anyone, even to Archer. It was now eight days after Alexis' death and Tucker was napping in his quarters when he heard his door chime.   
  
"Who is it?" he demanded.  
  
"It is T'Pol."  
  
Tucker was surprised. He had not seen T'Pol since the day Alexis died and she had not tried to engage in conversation with him. "Enter," he said.  
  
The door to Tucker's cabin slid open and T'Pol stepped inside.  
  
"Did the captain send you?" Tucker asked immediately.  
  
T'Pol answered calmly, "No, he did not. I came of my own choice. You may be interested to know though that the captain has been irritable lately. I believe it is due to his concern for you."  
  
Tucker laughed without humor. "He probably thinks I am going to do something rash."  
  
"And are you going to do something rash?" T'Pol asked evenly.  
  
Tucker shook his head. "No."  
  
"Then the captain's concern is unwarranted, perhaps you should tell him so."  
  
"I don't know that he would believe me."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Can I tell you something in confidence?"  
  
T'Pol looked somewhat surprised, but then said, "You may, Commander."  
  
Tucker stood and walked over to the small porthole in his cabin and looked out into space. "You know, when some people look out there, all they see is a void... a vast nothingness. But I see that is the opposite of that, it is everything infinite and undying." He turned back to face T'Pol. "I wouldn't be seeing all that if it weren't for Jonathan Archer." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Four years ago my older brother, Alex, died in a decompression accident. The investigators ruled it was a mechanical malfunction, but I was operating those controls."  
  
T'Pol looked impassively at Tucker, listening patiently.   
  
"It was a very dark time in my life," Tucker said. "I convinced myself that it was my fault."  
  
"That is--"  
  
"Illogical, I know," Tucker said and gave her a weak smile. "I know that now, but humans, as you have noticed, have a tendency to be less than logical at times.  
  
"I couldn't face what happened. I worked constantly to keep my mind off of it. I didn't even go to the funeral. I worked to exhaustion and collapsed on the job a couple of weeks later. My commanding officer told me I needed to pull myself together, but I couldn't. Commander Archer, as he was back then, came one night to pay his respects, and he found me packing my belongings."   
  
"You were leaving?" T'Pol asked.  
  
Tucker nodded and said softly, "I was going to give up Starfleet, leave everything I had ever worked for behind. I didn't know what I was going to do. I was just... lost." He gave T'Pol a sad smile. "Jon was furious when I told him. I showed him my letter of resignation and he tore it up saying he was damned if he was going to let me quit just like that. We argued." Tucker laughed. "Oh boy, did we argue."  
  
"Since you are on this ship, he must have convinced you."  
  
Tucker nodded. "He didn't tell me anything anyone else hadn't already told me. 'It's not your fault', 'Alex would want you to get on with your life', et cetera, but he listened to me and I guess by drawing me into that argument, made me say everything I had bottled up inside." Tucker sighed. "So, he has reason to be concerned. Probably thinks I am going to throw in the towel on the whole idea of exploring space and new cultures. I'm not going to do that, but a part of me wants to."  
  
"You ultimately accepted your brother's death and so you moved on. Have you accepted your daughter's?"  
  
"I don't know how," Tucker said softly. "It's just that I've kept her a secret for so long. Isolated myself. Maybe it was because of hormones or whatever, but it seems strange to talk to others about it, after all this time."  
  
"Is it human pride that stops you?"  
  
"No," Tucker insisted. "There's just this part of me that just wants to get through it on my own."  
  
"If you want me to understand, I do not."  
  
"It must be nice to be a Vulcan," Tucker snapped, "and not feel sad when someone dies."  
  
"At least we do not lie to ourselves," T'Pol said sternly.  
  
"What's that supposed to mean?"  
  
"A friend is what helped you deal with your brother's death. You won't accept the support of your friends on Enterprise who would help you deal with your daughter's. You say that you want to get through it on your own, but you know from your own experience that you cannot."  
  
Impatiently, Tucker asked, "Why did you come, T'Pol?"  
  
"To give you something," she said and put her right hand out, palm up. Resting on her palm was a flat, rectangular silver pendant with a thin silver chain.  
  
"What is it?"   
  
"It's called a t'polata," she said. "It is an engraving with the name of someone who has died, to help remember them."  
  
He reached out and picked it up, letting it dangle from his fingers. "T'polata," he echoed softly. "The first part sounds like your name."  
  
"It should. In Vulcan, my name means remembrance," she said evenly and Tucker looked up from the pendant to look into her eyes. "You see, Vulcans do not express sadness, but we still need to remember." She reached out and touched the pendant. "Traditionally, if anyone asks a Vulcan about the t'polata, the Vulcan would tell them about the person who died."   
  
He smiled at her. "Thank you, T'Pol."  
  
"You are welcome, Commander," she said. "I am due on the bridge."  
  
He nodded and she went to the door. It slid open, but she hesitated in the doorway. She turned back to him, pointed at the necklace still dangling from his fingers, and said, "Perhaps you will tell someone about her." She stepped beyond the threshold of the door and it slid shut behind her.   
  
For a while Tucker stared at the door after her and then he looked back down at the t'polata in his hand. He approached his desk and set it down in front of the urn. He sat down on his bed, thinking. After a while, he spoke out loud, "Computer, please record this voice message to be delivered to the quarters of Captain Archer, Sub-Commander T'Pol, Doctor Phlox, Ensign Mayweather, and Ensign Sato," he paused for a moment then added, "And Lieutenant Reed. Begin recording," He took a deep breath. "This is Trip. Some of you know what has happened to me, a couple of you don't. But I thought I would tell you about it, all of it. And I want to tell you about someone named Alexis..."  
  
=-=-=  
  
End  
  
=-=-=   
  
Notes:  
  
Thanks again to Djinn :-) Thanks also to SwingGirl MacSlow, my test audience :-)  
  
Since you have read this far, I assume you have an opinion. Please review or send me an e-mail to fictionbya@postmark.net  
  
=-=-= 


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